


behind closed doors

by youngjo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Deepthroating, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, there's a glove involved, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22949860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngjo/pseuds/youngjo
Summary: Sometimes Mingi lets the adrenaline of a performance get to him. Luckily San is there to help.
Relationships: Choi San/Song Mingi
Comments: 14
Kudos: 167





	behind closed doors

**Author's Note:**

> rewatching some old anewz and uhhhh my feral gremlin brain may have gotten inspired by [this](https://youtu.be/_KoPBOFzqHk?t=132)
> 
> so just something short but feral! hope you like it!

“Someone’s gonna hear us,” Mingi hissed, pushing weakly at San’s chest. 

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” San replied quietly. He pressed his hand firmly into Mingi’s hip, keeping him pinned against the wall. His other hand was currently occupied with the cock it was holding, stark red leather glinting in the light of the dressing room window—Mingi’s cock, to be exact. (The glove was his too, if you wanted to be technical and all.)

“Staff are here, San.” He bit his lip as San ran his thumb over his slit, “Hn … make it quick then.”

San smiled sweetly, triumph dripping from his features. “If you didn’t get hard before performances, you wouldn’t be having this problem.”

Mingi’s cheeks flushed, the rapper raising his hands to cover his mouth. “Can’t help it and you know it. Adrenaline and all,” he whispered, voice muffled so much San could barely decipher what he’d said. 

He didn’t bother giving a verbal answer though. Instead, San opted for continuing his previous activity, the warm leather of the glove he had  _ borrowed _ from Mingi sliding along his shaft with practiced ease. The redhead’s brows furrowed as he did so, giving San clue that the extra addition helped. 

“Be a good boy and hold it in. Our stylists will be upset if you get cum on our pretty stage outfits, right?” San blinked up at him innocently, hearing a soft ‘fuck you’ drift between Mingi’s fingers. He smiled like the demon he was and readjusted his position, pressing his clothed groin into Mingi’s thigh; no reason he couldn’t have some fun too. Unlike Mingi, he was still clad in the clothes he had worn to the performance hall, meaning the pressure at keeping his outfit clean did not apply to him. His wrist bent, hand sliding over as much of Mingi’s large cock as he could manage, and began stroking him in time with his own drag of his dick against the rapper’s thigh. 

His teeth dug into his lip in the effort to stifle his own moans, listening to the breathy gasps and strained pleas that spilled from Mingi’s own. He looked pretty, eyes screwed shut and hands clasped over his mouth as he tried desperately to make sure no one grew suspicious of what was happening behind the door locked behind them. San could hear them chattering away, stylists and the rest of their members, buzzing with excitement over their performance for the day. The realization that any one of them could get suspicious over their whereabouts, that at any moment that door could fly open and expose them, put his entire body on edge and sent forth a feeling of excitement they were only lucky enough to achieve during comeback season.

“Mingi,” San groaned quietly, breathless. “M’gonna cum.”

Mingi whined something in response but his mind blocked it out, too focused on achieving the euphoria he too was desperately chasing. San threw his head back, but luckily the redhead still possessed some sort of coherent brain process. His hand shot out, tangling into San’s hair and yanking him forward so their lips could slide together. He drank in every moan as his hips stuttered to a halt, pleasure winding tightly through him as he came; a small price to pay later.

Breaking their kiss, San stared up at him with hazy vision and the tiniest of smiles. “Thanks,” he whispered, voice soft.

“This is supposed to help me and you came first,” he whined without missing a beat.

San giggled. “I know, I know! Let me make it up to you.” He extracted himself from Mingi’s body, grateful for the chance to sink to his knees; he didn’t think his legs could hold him in that moment anyway. Unfortunately he couldn’t tease Mingi how he wanted to at that moment, knowing they were pressed for time. It wouldn’t be long before someone came searching for them, most likely San to begin his turn with the stylist. But that was fine—he could make up for it in the cool quiet of their room later.

His hands came up, fingers teasing along the top of Mingi’s shaft. The tip contained the faintest glisten of pre-cum, and San accepted the invitation to lean forward and lap it away eagerly. Mingi groaned at the sight of him, San pausing to press a finger against his lips. Then his attention was right back to the task—sorry, dick—at hand, San wasting little time in leaning forwards to gently kiss the slit. After all, there would be no evidence and no chance of mess if he swallowed it, right? Helped that he had experience too, which he helpfully applied to Mingi. 

San sucked Mingi’s tip between his lips with no hesitation, sliding down the length of it easily. He had done this plenty of times and, dare he say, he was the best at it. Mingi moaned, muffled, above him, and San swallowed around him as a reward. The weight of Mingi against his tongue made him moan as well, San carefully sliding further and further until his nose was buried in curls that still smelled faintly of fresh soap and Mingi’s cock was snug in his throat. He stayed like that for a few extra seconds, testing his own limits, before he pulled back to the head, tongue swirling around the tip quickly. San lifted his glove-clad hand and cupped Mingi’s ball, rolling between in his palm and relishing in the way the redhead’s hips shook at his ministrations.

Then he began to move in earnest. Sometimes he slid halfway, and sometimes he went all the way down, focusing on the mix of Mingi’s strained whimpers and the way his hips had begun thrusting on their own. San raised his hands and gripped Mingi’s thighs, their eyes meeting in hazy understanding as he went still. Mingi accepted his relinquished control, reaching down to tangle fingers in soft hair and begin rolling his hips with fervor. From there, he only lasted a total of two minutes before his head smacked against the wall a little too hard. (Good thing they were opposite the door.) San only had a moment to brace before cum hit the back of his throat, salt and thick, the feeling of the rapper’s cock twitching in his mouth pulling a strangled moan from deep within his chest.

He pulled off, the pad of his tongue dragging along Mingi’s sensitive cock to clean anything extra. Then he licked his own lips, sitting back so they could take a few moments to catch their breath.

“You’re a demon,” Mingi whined, letting go of his hair. He held out a hand, San taking it so he could be helped to his feet.

San winked, leaning up to kiss the corner of Mingi’s mouth. “But I’m your demon and you love me.”

The redhead pouted. “... I do love you, but you’re still a demon.”

“Love you too,” he giggled. 

A sudden knock at the door caught them both off guard. “You two alright in there?” Seonghwa called.

“Fine, fine!” San called without missing a beat. “Some of the buttons got stuck so Mingi was helping me!”

Seconds of tense silence passed, before Seonghwa sighed on the other side of the door—in relief he hoped. “That’s good. It’s your turn for makeup San, so hurry up!”

“Menace,” Mingi whined.

“Yes, yes, we’ve established this. I would put this away so you’re not too suspicious.” San palmed Mingi’s cock one final time, the other man squeaking in surprise. “Now it’s my turn to get all pretty.”

xxx

Laying on the dressing room floor later that afternoon, Yunho crowded into it with a camera and more energy than post-orgasm San felt like exuding.

San smiled weakly up at Yunho, the latter holding a camera.

“What were you doing in here?” The blond questioned playfully.

“Oh, nothing,” he responded knowingly, “Just playing with Mingi.”

If Yunho noticed the rosy pink tint of his cheeks, he didn’t say anything—but San knew they’d both be questioned over it later that evening. 

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twt for more feral nonsense [@moonswallowed](https://twitter.com/moonswallowed) !
> 
> thank you for reading!!


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